The Circus Life
by Marla Fair
Summary: A game of checkers, a checkered relationship, and a sage Chinese cook - what more could you want?


The Circus Life

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"Pa, it just ain't fair!"

His father smirked as he claimed the remaining black checker. "Age before beauty, son."

Hoss squinted at the board. "You think I oughta act like Little Brother did when he lost to Adam last night?"

His father sat back in the chair. "You mean wipe the board clean with your sleeve and then stomp off like a five year old?"

The big man nodded.

Ben's lips curled at the imagined vision. " _That_ I'd like to see."

Hoss looked over his shoulder. "You ever figure what got in his craw?"

His father shook his head. "I am leaving that to the wisdom of the East."

The big man grinned. "Hop Sing, you mean?"

"Um-hm." His father's eyes flicked to the kitchen. "Since he was little, Joseph would confide things to Hop Sing he wouldn't to me. The boy has me at my wit's end. It was send him to the kitchen or tan his hind end."

"Joe's seventeen, Pa."

Ben's dark eyes crinkled. "So...?"

Hoss glanced at the kitchen and then back to his pa and swallowed.

"Rematch?"

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"Why Little Joe no tell Hop Sing what wrong? Father tan hide like deer if no say what wrong!"

The Cartwright's cook shook his head. Mistah Ben's youngest was sitting on the block in the middle of the kitchen, his feet dangling down like they had when he was little.

They nearly reached the floor now.

Little Joe was looking out the window toward the west. With a shake of his head, the Chinese man picked up a bowl, shoved the spoon he had been wielding into it, and thrust the batter into the startled young man's hands.

"You think about stirring. Not about girl!"

Little Joe looked mortified. "Who said anything about a girl?"

Hop Sing jabbed a finger into his stomach. "This, say it here. No eat for days! And this, here." He touched the young man's shoulders. "You slump. Sit up!" As Little Joe obeyed, the Chinese man gently touched the boy's cheek. "And _this,"_ he said more softly, "boy no sleep."

A slow smile spread across Little Joe's face. "You must be a magician."

"No magician. Magician dark. Unnatural." He opened the spice cupboard and pulled out the cinnamon. "Sage."

The boy thrust the spoon into the dough and did his best to beat it to death. "A sage, huh? Does that Chinese wisdom of yours mention women?"

"Plenty mention. Spirit of woman is made of quicksilver. Heart, made of wax," he replied.

Joe's mobile eyebrows danced. "You got that right!"

"This about Missy Victoria?"

His master's youngest deflated like a bladder without air. "You...know about Tory?"

The Chinese man hid his smile. Of course, he knew.

"Why you not tell Hop Sing what he need know?"

He winced as he heard the spoon ram into the side of his favorite bowl again. "I went over to her place yesterday to...well...you know." Joe sighed. "We're sparkin'."

"Oh?" Hop Sing avoided looking at the boy as he added the spice. "Never does woman lie in more cunning way than when she tells truth to someone who doesn't believe her."

"Exactly!" Joe snorted. "I caught her with Jim McKay. She tried to tell me they were having a heated discussion." The boy blushed. "It was _heated_ all right..."

"A curious woman is capable of turning around the rainbow just to see what is on the other side," the Chinese man murmured as he reached for the raisins.

The spoon fell silent. "Huh?"

"Sage wisdom," the little man said, again hiding his smile. "What you do, Little Joe?"

The dark curly head sank. "I...popped him. I'm surprised Jim's Pa ain't been over yet."

"Perhaps Jim deserve 'popping'. Maybe father know."

Little Joe began jabbing the dough again, as if it was _Jim_. Hop Sing held out little hope for his cookies.

"Tory's the one deserved poppin'..."

Hop Sing placed a hand on the boy's knee. "Sage say, when man is crazy about woman, only _she_ can cure him."

Joe grimaced. "I ain't crazy about her."

The Chinese man shook his head. He took the bowl and held up the mangled dough that looked for all the world like a piece of Swiss cheese.

"When a finger is pointing at the moon, the fool looks at the finger."

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"Dag-burn it, Pa! Stop that!"

The older man raised both eyebrows. "Stop what?"

His father held all of the black checkers in his hand. Again. Hoss blew out a breath and a laugh came with it.

" _Gol-darn_ it, Pa. Stop _winning!"_

As his father joined in, Little Joe burst out of the kitchen. With barely a look their way, he grabbed his gun belt, reached for his hat, and opened the door.

"Er...Joseph?"

Hoss watched his younger brother stop at that _voice_. "Yeah, Pa?"

"Would you like to let your brother and I in on where you're going?"

"You no ask Little Joe. You let boy go!" Hop Sing insisted as he followed.

The big man snorted at his father's look.

"So _you're_ giving the orders now where it concerns my sons?" the older man asked with mock indignation.

"Yes, Mistah Ben."

"You listen to him, Pa," Joe hazarded. "Hop Sing's a sage."

"A sage. I see." Their father stared at the two of them for a moment and then waved his hand. "Well, then, get going."

Joe flashed a grin. A second later, he was out the door.

Turning to the Chinese man, their father asked, "What _did_ you do? I was ready to take the strop to that boy."

Hop Sing sighed. "Mistah Ben not need a hatchet remove fly from son's forehead."

Hoss swallowed his snigger.

"What?" Ben bellowed.

The Chinese man shook his head. "Mistah Ben never learn. He who does not regularly put on socks will never get used to circus life."

Into the stunned silence that descended after Hop Sing left the room came Hoss's light chuckle.

"How about we see who wins _this_ time, Pa?"


End file.
